


Walpurgisnacht

by GoreCorset (CorsetJinx)



Category: Shall We Date?: Wizardess Heart+
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/GoreCorset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened only a week prior, a flower is stolen and misery descends among the fair folk. But, it would appear, a hopeful attendee of Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy will have the great fortune of finding her fate entwined in this mystery. Will she, with the help of the mysterious Vincent Knight, be able to bring prosperity back to the Land of the Fay in time? And what about her schooling?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Incertus

**Author's Note:**

> This is a retelling of the events of Vincent Knight's route, meant to expand on the routes ideas. However, this retelling also takes liberties with the canon. This retelling features the character Drie Perrill in the place of Liz Hart. - GoreCorset

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****

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She has dreamed a thousand dreams. Recalled a thousand words spoken by a mother who had been far kinder than the one in which she was blessed with. Or cursed. She recalled words of love and praise from this dream-mother. A promise of love eternal, one day she would see. Even she, strange and quiet, without equal. But she needn't worry, her dream-mother swore, because she would find an equal. He would love her far more than any other. And she would fall in love. And she would wed this one who would make her smile the brightest sunshine smile. Make her feel warm in her heart...

But the dream had to come to an end.

The young woman slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the last dregs of sleep. Her small mouth parted, a yawn uncurling from her tongue. She stretched only so much as she dared, less she rumple the dress her maids had worked so painstakingly to craft under the watchful eye of her mother. A dress befitting of a doll. A dress for her precious little doll...

Pale lavender eyes moved to the window, white hands settling on her lap once more. There, the light weight of her doll remained, dressed in a matching gown, one she herself had sown. After all, her doll was to match her. That was how she had been crafted, years ago. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the gentle rocking of the train, it's slow, graceful climbs, bumps, and falls had acted as a lullaby for the Perrill girl.

The train rocked, wheels grinding over the tracks on the bridge they were crossing. The world blurred with each passing second. The rolling hills, the thick forests, the sparkling blue waters. And even her reflection seemed to blur at the edges, leaving only the vaguest outline. Pale lavender eyes moved from the landscape to the being in her lap. Small hands grasped at hers, tiny feet digging into the abyss black skirt and the heavy petticoats beneath. Large amethyst eyes gazed up at her, thick plum colored locks curling around the cherubim face. When her attention was noted, the doll slowly rose up onto its tiny feet, small arms raising. The violet magic laced inside its porcelain frame began to glow, showing through the delicately crafted joints. The old doll moved like a puppet carefully manipulated by attentive hands.

“Are you troubled, Noi?” The syllables lulled on her tongue, words curling and falling flat. Her voice, low and breathy, didn't carry far. She always sounded so tired, lethargic. As if her energy was all but drained already, and her day hadn’t even truly begun. She had only just awoken, after all. The yellowed Acceptance Letter stirred in the straps of her personal bag. The bag that usually acted as Noi’s _bed_. Whether it had stirred because of the increase in her magic, or because they were getting closer to the school, she couldn’t say. Nor did she care to think on it. Her attention remained focused on the doll.

Unlike the previous Noi prototypes, this one appeared the most resilient to her crushing magic.

Noi twirled on her pointed feet, leaving little imprints along the usually pristine skirt. It’s own matching skirt and petticoat swayed with the motions. It’s thin arms moved in arcs like a ballerina’s. It’s tiny mouth popped open as if it were singing. A mouth carved like a nutcracker’s.

“A sense of foreboding, hmm? How interesting… is this how we will meet?”

Of who she spoke no one could say, least of all the doll that had captured the fullness of her attention. For now, at least. For now. And it remained that way for another hour, that was, until the conductor had drawn near. He was a large man, jovial in appearance. His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes clear and sparkling. His voice was thunderous, loud enough to silence the many chatting children and families, echoing in the stillness of the her thoughts.

“Next stop, Gedonelune Station!'

“Ah...” She was almost there, then. It was a large city, so she had been told, Geodonelune proper. She had lived on the outskirts, high in the mountains. Hidden like the minotaur in the old stories, without a labyrinth, however. How different would it be from home? Aside from the many people, their loud voices and curious ways, she didn't know what to expect. She had heard that Geodonelune proper was not nearly so magical, that the only magic to be found was in the many, many students that attended the Royal Academy. And she was to be one of those students, after a trial period – although she was made bitter by the knowledge having been hidden in a so-called acceptance letter.

A promise of trial, not a true acceptance.

Noi's jaw clicked shut, drawing her attention back to it.

“Of course... my dearest Sir Letter,” the woman's low voice snaked through the air.

 


	2. Florem Faciem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Youthful Face

It wasn’t long after she had arrived that she had realized that she didn’t entirely know what to do. And it wasn’t as though Sir Letter was helping her any. The letter seemed practically irritated at her lack of knowledge of the outside world, how she stood amidst the hustle and bustle of the train station like a lost puppy. She was a woman of 19 years of age, surely she had traveled before. And she was a woman of some wealth, so had she not gone to places by train before? Why then did she just stand there like a forgotten doll?

The Lady Perrill slowly closed her eyes, a hand rising slowly to cover her mouth as a tired yawn passed her lips. Already she was tired of the letter’s complaints. She cradled her carefully carved ball-jointed puppet servant to her chest, the crushed velvet of its bell skirt rustling against the black cotton blouse she wore. The ruffles and lace of their garments met with a soft crinkle, the way that all fabric does. The letter fluttered about at her side, turning this way and that to get her attention.

“How can you still be tired, hmm? You slept through nearly the whole trip entirely!” The yellowed paper huffed. “That upbringing of yours has spoiled you rotten. First you wouldn’t put on the uniform, then you refused to listen to me. You wouldn’t even pin the emblem on that shirt of yours! Now I bet you were expecting a carriage to pick you up here, too.”

“No…” The word was flat on her tongue. Lilac eyes opened slowly, gaze falling upon the Acceptance Letter. It was so funny, that the enchanted letter would fuss at her when he, too, had fallen asleep during their short trip. But she could not, or would not, fault him for it. “Where to now, my dearest Sir Letter?”

“Ah, yes,” as if blushing, the letter turned away from her. “First we must claim your luggage. That young man should be here by now. This way, Lady Perrill.”

Oh yes, her one suitcase. The one she had held when the rest of her luggage had been sent ahead of her. That suitcase was so… heavy. But it had to be, considering what was inside of it. Not the gothic dresses that she wore day in and day out, but the school uniform and other precious materials. Like Noise and Nous, two more of her special doll companions. It wasn’t like the smaller bag she could easily carry with her that was meant for Noi, a bed for her precious doll. The golden dragon emblem of the school rested neatly on the outside of that bag.

The letter hesitated a moment, turning to face her once before floating on ahead. It needn’t worry about her not following it… after all, where else was she to go? She didn’t know much about Geodonelune beyond it’s surface, and she would rather not get too lost. She moved slowly, poised yet sluggish. Somehow it was strangely befitting of the purple haired woman.

“You know, Lady Perrill, you aren’t the first Perrill I’ve been sent to collect,” the letter began, choosing it’s next words carefully. “You make the third in recent years. Why, just last year I was sent to gather _Anima_ Perrill.”

She paused at the name.

The whole world could have stopped turning in that moment. The Dragon of Time could have finally woken up. But it would not have affected her in the slightest compared to this. This moment. That name. The young woman stared at nothing for a long moment, all the thoughts in her head evaporating with that name. How long had it been since that party? How long had it been since she had first seen that beautiful girl, her long purple hair carefully curled. Those matching violet eyes.

Her half-sister.

Anima was at the academy?

The thought was both crushing and exhilarating.

A crushing love for a sister she hardly knew.

“… are you listening to me?” The letter’s voice finally managed to penetrate the haze of her mind. Her feelings and half sought after memories.

“I apologize.” The young lady murmured softly. She began to walk once more, following after her guide. She would have much to think on over the coming days, like meeting her sister dear. To be reunited with the other had always felt like a distant dream, considering her mother’s reaction to the initial meeting. Trying to cover up the elder Perrill child’s existence.

The purple haired woman began to follow the letter once more. She, and her guide, eased through the bustling crowd. Past gawking children, parting and reuniting families, loved ones, and other students. They were heading to the baggage claim, she realized after a moment. They were to meet a young man - her mother had demanded it be so. He was to claim her luggage for her and whisk it off to the academy so that the young lady wouldn’t need to lug it all the way to the dormitories.

It was always so amusing, what influence a title and money could have. She was certain most others simply carried their one bag with very little problem. That was how it was supposed to be, right?

The murmur of the crowd began to ease its way into her ever turning thoughts, slowly drawing her attention to the world around her once more. The Lady Perrill slowly lifted her gaze from the glossy marble flooring where hundreds of people were reflected. Lavender eyes met with dull muddy brown eyes, belonging to a young gentleman.

He stood with her luggage, a badge from the academy resting on the lapel of his tweed coat. He greeted her with a shy smile, appearing far younger than he must have been. He was hesitant in his approach. Unsure. Just like the servants back home. But, this hesitation did not last long. It seemed that just moments after making eye contact that he had gotten the nerve to speak with her. At least to do what he had been sent to do. After confirming that he had come from the academy, and that she was Lady Perrill, he moved on to check for other students who might have arrived. Be them regular students or otherwise. It was… interesting. Not exactly what the violet haired woman had expected, but she hadn’t really known what to expect.

After collecting the baggage of two other girls – one younger and the other older than her, the servant began to head off with their luggage. So her mother wasn’t the only one who had paid for another to carry her child’s luggage. How funny that might have been, had she found it funny at all.

Although she could have followed after the servant and begun her school life immediately. However the young Perrill woman had, instead, turned her attention to the city. She ought to gaze upon her temporary home. She ought to get to know these people. Besides, it wasn’t like the letter had protested. Well, hadn’t protested yet.

There was something about the energy here, in a place so full of people and unfamiliar to her sheltered senses. It didn’t tempt her to join in, but rather to linger. To try and understand it. Why the children or young women close to her own age beamed over trinkets sold in merchant’s stalls, why strangers quickened their step as they approached curving alleys and streets whose ultimate destination was unknown to her.

The Lady Perrill did not pause to consider what the consequences of her next action might be, instead beginning with the simple, yet arduous, task of putting one foot in front of the other. Her gothic clad form moved with a slight swaying motion as she walked, footsteps surprisingly light for all the heels of her shoes kissed the platform with a soft ‘click’. Slender shoulders curved inward, her upper body tucked over that of her precious doll as she approached the bustling crowd. The length of her purple hair whispered against the fabric of her dress with every step, a noise that was drowned out as the greetings, partings, and general chorus of voices all around her.

Her eyes focused on no one particular thing for very long. A storefront advertising magical tools, a girl’s vibrant sundress flashing in the corner of her vision, the smooth arc of motion as a cluster of sparrows took to the sky as their previous spot of rest was disturbed. Even the buildings were peered at from beneath purple bangs, their charming exteriors similar to those of the exquisitely constructed doll houses she had seen in the past.

These sights and more the Lady Perrill passed by, her careful walk leading her from the station’s plaza and deeper into the city of Gedonelune – unaware or ignorant of the Acceptance Letter flitting around, calling for her attention.

The cobbles beneath the purple haired woman’s shoes made the click of her heels sound louder as she tread down a street unconsciously selected from the others. The sound might, had she paid any mind, have been amplified by the closeness of the wood and stone walls on either side of her. She did not pause as the path opened up and gradually filled with ambient noise, so different from that of the station’s platform.

Softer. Nearly gentle, even.

As the Lady Perrill raised her head, gaze focusing on her surroundings once more, she beheld an area surrounded by trees. Their leaves were burnished gold and orange, branches stretching out in a loose crown as their trunks stood guard around a plaza boasting a fountain at its center. Plants with golden flowers grew around the fountain, petals teased by the same breeze which tugged at the hem of the Lady Perrill’s dress.

She moved almost as if pulled, by the breeze or something else, arm tightening marginally around Noi. The splash of the fountain’s streams threatened to stain her dress as she neared the low raise of stone that formed the fountain’s lip, her legs failing her as she stood before it. Without the support beneath her, the Lady toppled, narrowly avoiding cracking her skull on the stone as gravity claimed it’s tribute.

In the sudden quiet, the press of all the energy and noise she’d passed by seemed all the more tumultuous. She felt drained, so very tired as the coolness of the stone seeping into the skin of her cheek.

“I’m tired…” She uttered, to no one in particular. Not her doll, nor the missing letter. As she sat there, looking more or less like a fallen doll forgotten by their owner, her arms began to fall from their position on her person. Her bag remained forgotten at her side, and Noi, her most beloved doll, slowly sank to her lap. The porcelain doll settled into the thick warm folds of cloth, almost meshing with her garments. Pale purple eyes slowly drifted shut, the threat of sleep nearly upon her.

“Something up? Looks like you could use some help - are you alright?” A fruity voice called out to her. For a moment she thought it was a trick of her tired mind. Normally she would have ignored the voice altogether, wrapped up in her own thoughts and daydreams, but this voice was too near, and too real. With a heaving sigh, she opened her eyes to look upon the person who had spoken to her.

Predictably male, he was a tall older gentlemen with carmine hair and ocher eyes. His skin was a delightful warm peach, with hardly a mark upon it from what she could see. Well, that would have been true had it not been for the scar on his brow, narrowly missing the curvature of his eye, or the intricate ruby red tattoo. A cool breeze tussled his hair, toying with the loner loose pieces, whilst sunlight played across the vibrant locks. Although a smile played upon his lips, there was still worry in his striking gaze, in his pleasant voice.

“I’ll help you out,” he began, drawing closer to her with all the care in the world. His hands were splayed, palm up, in a sign of placation. “If you need it?”

Did he think her some wild child, or fragile dame?

How _quaint_.

He was like a knight in shining armor, come to her aid. The young lady shifted, setting a hand upon Noi, carefully adjusting the doll’s resting place. She thought over her words with care. How best should she address her red haired knight. Would it do to use phrases of a highborn lady, or the common speech of her servants at home? After a long pause, she began: “Well… yes.”

“Alright, so, what’s the problem?” His smile seemed to grow, with good humor and mirth. “I’m not a scary guy or anything, so you can trust me.” He stopped just shy of her glossy black patent leather shoes, extending on callus hand before her. “Which, in retrospect, sounds exactly like what a scary guy’d say, but hey.”

The man lifted his free hand to the back of his head, fingers easing along the thick locks as he scratched. A lighthearted chuckle teased its way past his lips. His gaze searched her own, hand waiting patently for her own. The young lady stiffed a yawn behind a pale hand before lifting her bag. Once she had righted her belongings, she gingerly set her hand in his, and accepted his unspoken offer to help her to her feet. She was nearly light as a feather, even with the copious weight of her petticoats. In no time at all, she was back on her feet with hardly a sway. She did, however, meet his honey colored eyes with her own lavender ones, a thin deep purple brow drawn up.

The Lady Perrill drew her hand back, letting it fall to the leather bag she carried. Her fingers curled around the strap. His gaze shifted briefly to her bag, and, she knew, to the golden emblem that was pinned to its front. He looked back at her quickly.

“You know, you are not that scary.” Lavender eyes swept over his appearance now that she was closer. A soft, laugh escaped her pink lips. He was amusing to say the least, at least for now. She had begun to find humor in the situation, even if others would not have found it so. There was nothing about him that she found terrifying. She could defend herself well enough; her knowledge of anatomy would easily have come into play had he tried to attack her.

“Ah, a laugh!” He let his hand drop from the back of his head. His other hand, the one that had held her’s previously, settled upon his hip. “You look a lot cuter when you smile.”

The comment caught her off guard, bringing all thought to a halt. 

What was cute? Why was she cute? What made her cute? Why did he find her cute? Had her appearance not been classified as cute before? Was there something that had occurred, had changed on her person to make her cute? What. Was. Cute? 

“Name’s Vincent. You?” As if noticing her vacancy, the lack of a response, he pushed for conversation. To further this greeting, and distance himself from the queer air that had surrounded her.

A long mote of silence spilled between them before, at last, she spoke once more.

“It is…” She wet her lips. “Lady Drie Margaux Perrill.”

There it was, out in the open. A name and a title. A marker of her status as a high born lady of society. Now, she wondered, how would this stranger react?

“That is quite the name.” He spoke slowly, mulling over the name given to him, weighing each portion of the Lady’s name. Another pause had settled between them, this time brought forth by him. It wasn’t a heavy pause, just a contemplative one. He had much to think on, after all, and an unspoken question lay between them. How exactly did she wish to be addressed?

“You may simply call me Drie.” At last she broke the silence between them. She shifted her weight, carefully drawing Noi closer to her chest. “Unless you prefer formality.”

“No, I’m not really a formal kind of guy. But, I do promise to help you out so long as you need it, Drie.” His faltering smile returned to its previous glamour. “It’s nice to meet you.”


End file.
